


They Will Learn to Fear Us

by naberiie



Series: Duty, Loyalty, Sisterhood: Royal Handmaidens of Naboo ⚜ [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Experimental Style, F/F, Femslash February, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Romance Amidst Politics, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberiie/pseuds/naberiie
Summary: They were eleven, and they could see their lives stretched out in front of them, five girls who were more alike than most siblings. Five lives intertwined for eternity – for Naboo, and for each other.Padmé hates being called Princess, but she smiles when Sabé sleepily murmurs it each morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Padmé was many things to many people. However, to Sabé, she was everything. To Padmé, Sabé was the center of her world.

By many standards, they never had childhoods. Each and every one of their lives was for the people of Naboo. And training began early.

Padmé knew she was meant for politics, for democracy, for the happiness of her home planet, when she was a toddler. She used to whisper stories to Sabé under the covers at night of how she’d pretend to negotiate trade deals with her dolls, or shape policies in the kitchen while her mother cooked dinner. Her parents had watched her play and knew their daughter would soon paint her face white, split her lip with red.

So they sent her away, and the five followed.

Sabé knew they didn’t look like each other – they all looked like Padmé. She knew which one of them was meant for royalty before the crown was placed on her head. She knew even before Padmé revealed herself as the Princess of Theed. There was a deep current to the girl, something flowing under her pale skin, a fierceness in her eyes that Sabé could warm herself by. 

This was their childhood.

Sabé would plait Padmé’s thick dark hair while they argued about whether the Gungans should be sought out or left to their own devices. Padmé painted Sabé’s fingernails white – just like she did, an homage to the simple mountain village that had birthed her – while they discussed Naboo’s place in the galactic economy.

Sometimes, when their bodies ached after a full day of hand-to-hand combat training with Captain Panaka, they would simply lay together on the white cotton sheets until sleep took them. Sometimes Sabé would sit up and stare at her in the moonlight. Sometimes she woke to Padmé’s eyes on her own face.

They were eleven, and they could see their lives stretched out in front of them, five girls who were more alike than most siblings. Five lives intertwined for eternity – for Naboo, and for each other. Padmé hates being called Princess, but she smiles when Sabé sleepily murmurs it each morning.

Two years later, and Sabé knows everything about Padmé. She can mimic the way the Princess sits down, how she shifts one leg and then the other, how her fingers twitch when she’s displeased. When they woke to the news of King Veruna’s abdication, the bright fire roars in Padmé’s eyes. She dances around the room after the others left, gripping Sabé’s hands, “This is it! This is our chance!” Sabé laughs and twirls her around the balcony, their bare feet effortlessly following the steps while their minds race with infinite possibilities. 

Their years of training were meant for this moment.

Padmé cares for the others, of course she does, but Sabé is the one to place the heavy red and gold crown on her head. It is heavy with the weight of its legacy, beautiful and terrible in power. When she steps back, it is not Padmé who looks at her from under the white makeup, but a Queen. Queen Amidala. Sabé lets herself stare, her heart fluttering madly in her chest as she whispers the title and the regnant name. “My Queen Amidala.” The sounds are sweet in her mouth. They taste like butterscotch.

And the Queen smiles, and Sabé sees her Padmé in those warm brown eyes. She has trouble rising from her throne – the brocaded dress weighs more than she does – but Sabé’s hands are steady as she helps her to rise.

They are fourteen, and this is what they were meant to do.

They are fourteen, and they do not know they already have enemies.

The Trade Federation watches as a planet elects a young girl to lead them. They sneer, but they do not understand that politics is as much part of Naboo as the rivers and oceans. They do not see that the preservation of democracy is lifeblood to the citizens of Naboo. They see only a young girl, and they mistake her age for inexperience. They assume it is a fluke and that the Queen will break with ease.

They arrive five months into Amidala’s rule and congratulate themselves on a flawless victory.

Sabé stands next to the Queen as their communications are cut, and holds her close that night as fear begins to solidify in their blood. They are wrapped in thick blankets but the chill still worms in through the fabric. Trade Federation ships sparkle like ominous new stars in the familiar night sky.

Hot tears drip onto Sabé’s arms but Padmé’s voice is steady when she declares to the night, “I will remove them from Naboo like the vermin they are.”

“We must go to Coruscant, to the Galactic Senate.”

“Yes.” Padmé rolls over in Sabé’s arms and looks up at her through thick eyelashes. Her mouth is set with determination.

“And I will be your decoy as Queen.”

Padmé closes her eyes and buries her face in Sabé’s shoulder. “It will dangerous, Sabé.” Her breath raises gooseflesh on Sabé’s bare arms.

“You would lie down your life for our people. I will do the same for you. They will come after us when they discover our absence. You are too important to risk so much.”

Padmé sits up and stares at her. She knows it is dangerous, but she knows it is the only way to ensure the people of Naboo get the help they so desperately need. 

“You are too valuable,” Sabé repeats. “They need you.” Without thinking, she raises her hand and cups Padmé’s cheek. 

She closes her eyes and the façade falls. She is a fourteen-year-old girl with the weight of a world on her shoulders. Sabé would do anything to ease that burden.

“And I need you. My Sabé.” She opens her eyes and this time, Sabé know she is looking at Padmé, the handmaiden, not the Queen. The switch was effortless. “My Queen.”

Though they had not slept, though the sky was the dull blue-gray of dawn, they rose together, hands clasped tightly together. There is work to do.


End file.
